The night is very dark with a slight summer breeze,
A shimmer of moon peeking through the branches of trees.
I hear another’s footsteps in the distance from behind,
Hopefully the owner is a person that’s very kind.
As I continue to walk further, a pounding in my heart,
The moon gets brighter as the clouds start to part.
I turn around as I hear the sound at a faster pace,
Gleefully I shout as the moon lights up my brothers face.
Author Eileen Clark 2015
The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes The red sun flashes On village windows That glimmer red. The snow recommences; The buried fences Mark no longer The road o'er the plain; While through the meadows, Like fearful shadows, Slowly passes A funeral train. The bell is pealing, And every feeling Within me responds To the dismal knell; Shadows are trailing, My heart is bewailing And tolling within Like a funeral bell. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was a Harvard scholar versed in several European languages. He was heavily influenced by Romanticism and made a name as a poet and novelist with works like Hyperion, Evangeline, Poems on Slavery and The Song of Hiawatha. He was also known for his translation of Dante’s The Divine Comedy.
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